


Tigers do it better

by Kumikirin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Abusing Yuri's flexibility, Anal Fingering, Begging, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Edging, Face-Sitting, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Hickeys, Kissing, Love Bites, M/M, Marking, Otabek's an asshole you'll see, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Semi-Clothed Sex, Shameless Smut, Teasing, after-sex cuddling, also teasing Otabek, gratuitous fingering, inspired by a tumblr post about Yuri wearing a crop top, some romance too bc they love each other too much, teasing Yuri, thigh grinding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 13:14:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10465863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kumikirin/pseuds/Kumikirin
Summary: Trying on new clothes was never this good.  Yuri looks really good in a crop top, in Otabek's opinion.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seaworn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaworn/gifts), [stillherewhileimgone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillherewhileimgone/gifts).



> I just did a quick drawing based off [Levisass' post on tumblr](http://levisass.tumblr.com/post/158127514372), but then I made the mistake to mention that I maybe wanted to write a fic to go with it to my friend seaworn, and well... she's a very convincing person. Also, she was the one who requested face-sitting and she's responsible for the edging and the love bites. Here you go, Eve, I hope you enjoy your long awaited porn.
> 
> S/O to imagines and stillherewhileimgone too, since they gave me encouragement in the way of reblogs, glitter thrown over me and a challenge to write more than 9k of smut.
> 
> You go enjoy your porn, people ❤

Yuri slides the jeans up his thighs and around his hips, tugs on them to have them fit better against his ass and feels the known scratch of rough fabric against his skin. He’s about to zip them up, but a quick peek at the mirror distracts him from it. He stands upright and stares at his reflection, moving some blond strands away from his face so he can better assess his appearance, and he decides he doesn’t look bad at all with his white underwear showing at the front, and that Otabek would certainly appreciate the clear message of “I don’t really want to have pants on”. A small smirk sits on his lips as he stares at the expanse of skin showing above the clothes around his hips, his pale abdomen looking enticing when it’s being shown by his new crop top, if he says so himself. He wonders what Otabek will think when he sees the new clothes he’s bought.

He had decided he had to try on a crop top after a heated discussion with Mila about what would look better on him, crop tops or booty shorts. But he couldn’t only try it, of course not; he had to buy it and bring it home, so he could get the most important opinion on the matter: that of his boyfriend’s.

A finger comes up to his lips and he traces them as he looks at himself; his lips are slightly chapped and he needs to fix that. But that’s a worry for another time, now he needs to think what to do with this look. Maybe he should just walk back to the kitchen and stand there until Otabek notices him, maybe lying on the couch would be a better idea. Maybe he should just call him and count how much time it takes for him to push him over the mattress.

Yuri’s focused on his thoughts, but not so much he’s disconnected himself from the world, so he notices. He hears him before he sees him, the footsteps coming to a halt and the breath hitching in his lover’s throat, almost like the gasp of someone drowning. There’s a smile on Yuri’s lips before he can even control it; Otabek’s walked himself right into the wolf’s cave. One less thing to worry about.

Yuri looks up from where he was smoothing the white fabric of his new crop top and his green eyes shine with mischief as he stares at Otabek’s reflection in the mirror. Otabek reacts, but barely, closing his parted lips. He’s staring hard at him, taking in every inch of his exposed back, drunk on the sight of his bare hips and that fine line of his underwear that peeks just a little over the hem of his tight-fitting jeans, which hug his ass almost like a second skin even if he hasn’t buttoned it up on the front yet.

Yuri has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his smirk from becoming too big, and he busies himself playing with the hem of his top, as if he’s not noticed Otabek standing at the door not three meters behind him. He slides his hands down his chest, making a show of smoothing any crinkles left, and lets his fingers wander over the skin of his belly, rounding the curve of his hips and hooking his thumbs under the hem of his dark jeans, which fit just right but he tugs slightly up anyway, as if he’s just putting them on. Then he bends down, to fix the fabric around his right ankle, and can totally feel Otabek’s eyes gluing to the privileged view of his ass he’s getting right now. The smirk finally wins. Yuri keeps the position and turns his head to look at his boyfriend from over his shoulder.

“Beka,” he greets, like he’s just noticed he’s not alone. “Did you need something?”Otabek seems to be startled out of his amazed assessing of Yuri’s perfectly round butt, as he quickly deviates his eyes towards Yuri’s face and opens his mouth to explain.

Then Yuri’s straightening up with a slow curve of his spine that slides the jeans just the tiniest bit down, and the words fail him.

“Uh,” at least he still registers he’s been asked a question and is supposed to provide an answer, and Yuri has to give him points for that. “Yes, I. I wanted to ask you…” but he trails off, apparently not really sure about what he wanted to ask, and not focused enough to remember either.

Yuri turns around, finally giving him a full view of his white crop top with blue sleeves, black bold letters emblazoned over the chest reading ‘tigers do it better’. He casually lifts his arms like he’s stretching them, giving Otabek a glimpse of his lower ribs, and then bends them behind his head to bury them in his hair. The still unzipped jeans fall, again, a little lower down his hips. Otabek’s eyes travel from Yuri’s belly to the wide-open zipper that lets him see just enough of Yuri’s plain white boxer briefs.

His mouth is feeling dry all of a sudden.

“Like what you see?”

Otabek’s eyes go wide.

“Where,” he chokes, and makes a pause when he remembers he has to breathe. “Where did you get that?”

“Oh, I saw it today when I was coming back home,” Yuri says it like he’s not posing for Otabek to appreciate his figure, like he’s unaware of what he’s obviously causing him. “And I thought, ‘wow, I like the phrase’. So I bought it.”

Otabek’s eyes go up his chest to try and focus on the letters there. For a moment, Yuri thinks he might have forgotten how to read English, because he frowns and squints like he’s confused, before his face goes back to flustered stoicism.

“Tigers do it better,” Otabek reads out loud, and briefly looks at Yuri’s abdomen once more before focusing on his eyes.

Yuri lowers his right hand slowly, until it’s at eyes level, and his fingers flex in a way that resembles a claw. The smirk widens a little.

“Exactly,” he lowers his chin a little, just so he can give Otabek a meaningful look.

They would’ve laughed, probably, were Yuri doing the same gesture in a different situation, but right now Yuri feels powerful and Otabek feels like swallowing is a very hard task that requires all of his concentration.

Yuri lowers his hands with a soft snicker, never ungluing his eyes from Otabek’s face as he walks up to him, purposefully swinging his hips just a little more than necessary and paying attention at the way Otabek’s eyes certainly notice the movement.

He’s leaning against him before Otabek can really notice how close he is, and as the Kazakh faces him Yuri smirks.

“Aw, look at you, _blushing,_ ” Yuri chants, taking Otabek’s face in his hands. He’s so close he can feel his own breath falling on Otabek’s skin. “You really like this on me, don’t you?” he teases, rubbing his lover’s cheeks with his thumbs in a tender manner that conveys his words may sound mocking, but he actually finds his reaction endearing.

Otabek looks to the side and says nothing.

Yuri leans in to brush their lips together, the touch as light and quick as the beating of a hummingbird’s wings. And then it’s gone, before Otabek can deepen it, and Yuri’s lips are on his jaw, kissing their way down his neck while pulling on his shirt enough to make him take a step forward. He guides Otabek towards the bed, mouth latched to the curve of his neck.

Otabek puts his hands on Yuri’s hips only to have them swatted away.

“Oh no,” Yuri’s smirk is devilish, speaks of doom and one hundred tortures, and Otabek feels a shiver of anticipation. “You’re not touching me, Beka. Let’s see how much you can last.”

And then he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and Yuri’s on his lap, so close he can smell the faint scent of chamomile on his hair, kissing him hard and with all he’s got. Otabek’s hands twitch at his sides but he grabs onto the sheets, because as much as he likes being in control it’s just as good to let Yuri have it.

Otabek groans against Yuri’s mouth when the blonde’s teeth tease his lower lip, and can’t help a sigh when he subsequently sucks on it. It sends shivers down his spine and he barely keeps himself from grabbing Yuri’s hair to keep him in place and kiss him furiously; instead, he leans forward, a little desperate. Yuri laughs against his mouth but for once doesn’t tease, grabbing his face with long fingers splaying along his jawline, and deepens the kiss until they’re panting but still unwilling to stop, tongues sliding wet against each other and mouths barely parting to catch a deep breath before locking again, small moans muffled by the press of kiss-bruised lips.

Then Yuri grinds down against Otabek, and Otabek’s gripping the sheets so tight he can almost feel his nails digging into his palm even through the fabric.

“Yura,” he gasps, the name rolling with an accent from his heavy tongue. It’s like that time he went to the dentist and had anesthesia numbing half his mouth.

Yuri’s worked his hips into slow, circular motions, now busy with kissing and nipping at Otabek’s neck. Otabek can feel the smile against his skin at hearing his name, can feel the way Yuri’s fingers tighten against his scalp and around his bicep.

“Something the matter?” Yuri punctuates his words with a hard press of his hips against the bulge on Otabek’s pants. Otabek huffs, but doesn’t answer. Not verbally at least, but he thinks the way he pushes his hips back against Yuri’s is enough to make himself understood.

Yuri laughs quietly, that throaty sound that he makes when he knows he’s got the upper hand, and sighs delightedly as his hands sneak their way under Otabek’s shirt.

Suddenly, Otabek has lips against his collarbone and nails raking against his back and the sides of his ribs, pushing him closer still, and the grinding becomes harder and faster, and Otabek’s arms almost give out and send him back against the mattress. He’s huffing breaths soon enough, easily falling in sync with Yuri’s rotating hips as he thrusts up, so hard inside his jeans he’s straining against the zipper but goddamn, it feels good.

Yuri’s thighs move from their secured place at his sides, and Otabek absolutely _whines_ at the loss of stimulation because he’s really needing some relief right now. Yuri gifts his boyfriend with another look at his appearance, now a little disheveled which only makes him more enticing in Otabek's eyes. His chest is rising and falling noticeably under that crop top, the milky skin of his abdomen making Otabek’s hands itch with the desire to touch him, but he knows he’ll get something good from this if he keeps himself from giving in into the temptation Yuri’s body represents.

The top looks agonizingly gorgeous on him, giving Otabek a clear view of his jutting hipbones and the dip of his navel, and he wants to bite and lick so bad, but he refrains. The best thing is that, being so short, the top does absolutely nothing to hide the very noticeable and very visible, considering Yuri’s zipper is wide open, erection the blond is sporting. Otabek can easily outline his dick against the all-telling white fabric of Yuri’s boxer briefs, and he swallows the extra spit that wells up in his mouth.

It seems like Yuri’s thinking the same thing, because he smirks and lifts Otabek’s shirt to carelessly toss it to the floor, and then he’s kissing his way down his chest while cupping his erection and shamelessly palming him through the jeans.

When he stops over the hem of his pants, hot breath falling on Otabek's already heated skin, and busies himself with nipping and nibbling at the skin there but makes no attempt at going lower, Otabek thinks he’s going to lose his mind. His hands are starting to hurt from where he’s gripping the sheets with all he’s got, and he knows it’d be so much easier if he wasn’t so intent on watching Yuri’s every movement, but he can’t pry his eyes away from the playful wet tongue darting out from between those lips, red from kissing.

Mischief shines on those emerald eyes as Yuri looks up at him with a hazy gaze and sucks a hickey right over the button of his jeans.

Otabek’s knuckles go white. Yuri laughs again.

“You’re so hard already,” he mutters, his attention finally turning fully to the very obvious bulge between Otabek’s legs, no doubt caught by the twitch of his dick below his fingers.

“You’re a tease,” Otabek’s replies in a gruff voice, but says no more. He has to behave if he wants his reward.

Yuri’s smirk tilts to the side.

“You love it,” and before Otabek can think of an answer, Yuri’s unzipping his pants and nuzzling his crotch, and his self-restraint falters significantly. He thrusts up. Yuri snorts and mouths him through the dark blue fabric of his underwear.

“ _Fuck_ , yes,” Otabek breathes out. It’s half a response to Yuri’s earlier comment and half a mindless, relief-driven appreciation.

There’s a tongue tracing the side of his cock, Yuri’s mouth open as wide as his muscles will allow so as to cover as much as he can with his lips, pressing, mouthing Otabek’s thick erection, sliding up until he’s tasting the stain of precome tainting an almost black spot on his boxers.

“Do you really like it that much?” Yuri noses the outline of his dick as he speaks, fingers hooking under the hem of his jeans and sliding under it teasingly. “How I look in this.”

“You’re gorgeous, Yura,” Otabek breathes, fighting the urge to push his face against his crotch until Yuri takes him in his mouth. “I always like- seeing more of you.”

It’s pretty hard to phrase a decent sentence when the blood flow to your brain is cut short because it’s being redirected to your dick, so Otabek thinks he deserves a prize.

He doesn’t know what to make of Yuri’s grin.

“Lift your hips, Beka,” he orders, tugging on his jeans for good measure, and Otabek complies immediately. “I’m gonna suck you off until you can’t remember your name.”

Otabek almost chokes on his spit.

The boxers go along with the jeans, because that’s how Yuri works: he teases as much as he can and then speeds up to make up for the lost time. Otabek finds himself very naked and very aroused in front of Yuri’s scrutinizing gaze. He’s long since got accustomed to Yuri staring at his dick like it’s the first time he sees it, fortunately, so he doesn’t get uncomfortable or insecure anymore.

Yuri takes him firmly on his hand and leans in, wetting his lips and parting them enticingly, making Otabek’s thighs clench as he feels the ghost of Yuri’s breath falling over the sensitive head of his cock. And then he stops, the teasing little shit, and looks up at Otabek’s expectant eyes with a look that says ‘not just yet’. Otabek almost groans.

“You want this?”

“As badly as I want to fuck you senseless and watch how your legs wobble tomorrow at practice,” he says without missing a beat, and revels in the small feeling of power he gets from the audible hitch on Yuri’s breathing.

“Fuck. Yes, please,” Yuri moans, and finally leans down to take the head of his dick between his lips and suckle on it. Otabek groans, head falling back and eyes closing. He’s seen it enough times to be able to picture Yuri’s wet lips running along all his length, kissing it like it’s something precious, lapping at the slit to taste the precome, circling his tongue around the head.

He does look back, though, to see him give a long lick along the underside of his cock, all the way from the base to the tip, and then slide it into his mouth in a fluid motion.

His hips shoot up and Yuri has to put his hands on them to stop him from fucking his mouth raw.

“Sorry,” he manages to choke out an apology, spreading his thighs wider to give Yuri more room to move. Yuri moans around him, a way of indicating everything’s alright that has him hissing and gasping. That was absolutely on purpose.

Yuri takes him as far as he can in one go, then backs up and goes down again, does this a couple times before taking him out of his mouth with a sinful wet noise and mouthing the side of his cock while holding it from the other side with his hand. It’s always marveled Otabek how passionate Yuri can get while going down on him, thoroughly enjoying himself as he laps and kisses before swallowing him again and repeating the sequence, taking breaths in between, keeping a hasty rhythm right from the start. Yuri’s spit-wet fingers massage and knead the flesh he can’t push inside his mouth, having Otabek in a state of constant stimulation that makes him groan and flex his toes. With the level of skill the boy has acquired, that first time Yuri sucked him off seems to have happened long ago, a mess of too much teeth and too little tongue that still had Otabek coming all over his face nonetheless, because Yuri looks too pretty with glazed eyes and his lips wrapped around his cock.

“F-fuck, Yura,” Otabek’s hips push against Yuri’s mouth once more. He’s dying to bury his hands on that blonde mess of hair and thrust up until he’s coming deep down his throat. “Enjoying it?”

Yuri takes him out of his mouth and bends down to lick at his balls while his thumb rubs a sensitive spot right below the head, then goes back up when he decides he’s satisfied by the shaky moans he’s ripped from his boyfriend’s throat.

“What does it look like?” he shoots back with a sly smile, reddened lips glistening with spit. He looks so filthy down there between his legs, so pornographically delightful with his right hand around his dick and swollen mouth grinning against the red-purple of the head.

For a moment, Otabek wonders where that little blond of all those years ago went. The one that got all shy the first times he undressed him, the one that came embarrassingly fast whenever he touched him. The one that shed small tears when they first made love, that became a trembling mess the first time he rode his cock.

Then Yuri gives a harsh suck around him and Otabek’s thoughts evaporate out of existence, thighs trembling as much as his moans.

Yuri falls back into the pace he had set earlier, but this time he doesn’t stop now and then to kiss his length while he catches his breath; instead, he bobs his head up and down in a steady rhythm, sucking, moaning, producing all kinds of dirty wet sounds. And then Otabek feels Yuri’s hands stop caressing his balls and the base of his dick, moving instead in long caresses until they settle on the juncture of his thighs and hips, and Otabek knows Yuri’s about to get serious.

And then Yuri’s deepthroating him, nose pressed against his skin and lips wrapped around the base of his cock, and he lets out this soft needy moan before sliding back up and, Otabek’s sure, he’s not going to make it through this.

Yuri sighs, the weight of his boyfriend’s cock on his tongue feeling as right as always, the taste so good he’s prompted to pick up a fast pace. Every time he goes down on him it’s the same; he wants to start slow, to take him apart bit by bit, to tease him and make him groan and grunt and moan and pull his hair and thrust his hips and beg, but every time he loses himself in the firm hotness against his tongue, the feeling of his jaw working itself open enough to take him whole. It’s incredible.

He can feel spit building up under his tongue and hollows his cheeks as he sucks on the dick filling up his mouth, makes a soft slurping noise as he bobs his head up and down and revels in the long grunt he gets in return. His lips part a little, enough to let him take some air before diving in again, brushing the underside of Otabek’s cock with his tongue, angling his head to let the head press against the back of his cheek and earning a drawn-out moan, then repeats the process but this time swallows him whole again. Otabek falls apart so beautifully every time he deepthroats him that Yuri’s glad he’s managed to master the technique to do it whenever he wants without more than a few gags.

There’s a numb feeling that’s slowly starting to overcome his jaw, and as much as Yuri loves the slight burn of tired muscles he wants to see, hear, taste Otabek come undone. And he knows what he has to do to get what he wants.

Yuri’s right hand softens its grip on Otabek’s inner thigh to slide down his leg, leaving behind the crescent moon-shaped marks where his fingernails had dug on skin and hard muscle, until it finds the underside of Otabek’s knee and locks there. He pushes it up without ever slowing the up and down of his head. Otabek moans again when he understands where this is going and moves his leg up, bending it enough to press his sole against the mattress while spreading his legs wider, inevitably thrusting up into Yuri’s mouth. Yuri moans in response and gives an encouraging squeeze at the thigh he’s holding with his other hand.

Yuri’s lips slide all the way to the head and give a harsh suck that has Otabek losing his breath, before letting him fall from his mouth, hot and wet.

“You’re being so good,” Yuri looks at him from below, leaning in to mouth the words over the side of his cock, feeling it twitch. His voice is gruff and he likes the implications of it, enjoys the hoarse tone that comes after giving a good head. “Holding back like that, even though I know you’re dying to touch me. To pull my hair,” he punctuates with the wet slide of his silky tongue and Otabek shivers, gritting his teeth. “To fuck my mouth.”

“Yura, fuck,” Otabek groans. Yuri can perfectly see his fingers tightening around the sheets, which gives him a good idea of how hard this is being on him. “Stop the teasing.”

Otabek’s voice is shaky and strained. Yuri has to hold back from leaning down again and sucking hard on him until he’s coming.

“Eager much?” he smiles against the base of his cock, never taking his eyes off Otabek’s, and slides his spit-stained lips along the heated, tight skin. “Get the lube.”

Otabek moans, leaning back and taking one of his hands away from the sheets to open the drawer of his nightstand and blindly rummage through it. There’s not much in it, so he finds the half used bottle of lube with ease, and when he’s sitting back up to hand it to Yuri, the blond swallows him back, almost whole, and he chokes and barely stops himself from grabbing his hair and thrusting up until he’s balls deep inside that sinfully hot mouth.

There’s a little laugh, muffled but still recognizable as such, coming from Yuri as he looks up and bobs his head slowly. He extends his hand and the lube is placed on his palm with shaky fingers, Otabek’s hand shooting back to the mattress so he can lean back on his forearms without ceasing to watch him for a second. He knows he’s so, so close to cumming, but can’t find the will to make Yuri stop.

Yuri’s learnt some things since he started having sex with Otabek. He’s learnt exactly how to ride him to get him to come first, how he likes his dick to be sucked, how the kisses on his hips make him go crazy and having his back scratched during especially rough sex makes him shiver. But, especially, he’s learnt how Otabek likes to have a couple of fingers up his ass now and then. He discovered it the first time he suggested changing their usual positions and having Otabek bottom; he was surprised, to say the least, when his boyfriend turned into a moaning mess when he started stretching him. Otabek is into bottoming as much as he is into being top, it’s actually Yuri who has a preference for receiving, so it had never occurred to him to try something like that before.

It became a common occurrence after that, for Yuri to sometimes stretch Otabek with one or two fingers while he’s going down on him.

The first finger goes in easily, coated by a generous amount of lube Yuri took the time to rub until it got acceptably warm. It curves inside him and Otabek’s back does the same against the bed, moaning. Yuri’s tongue dances around his dick, flicks against the downside of the head, sucking harshly once again before going back to the easy up and down of his head, a rhythm he can easily keep up while his attention is divided between burying his fingers up to the knuckles inside his boyfriend and sliding his cock in and out of his mouth.

“Yura,” Otabek calls, suddenly too aware of the tight heat on his lower belly, the urgency tainting his voice making it obvious he’s not just moaning Yuri’s name, but trying to get his attention. Yuri looks up to meet his lover’s half-lidded eyes, taking in his parted lips and flushed cheeks, and hums in acknowledgment without stopping the sucking nor the fingering. “Yura, stop, I-”

But Yuri doesn’t. There’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, but it’s hard to smile while trying to shove a dick down your throat so instead he focuses on picking up the pace. Otabek lets out a quivering moan, hips stuttering and thighs trembling slightly.

He doesn’t get to push the second finger in. He’s only rubbing it against the rim as a warning, when Otabek shivers again and moans, and suddenly Yuri’s being lifted with a hard yank to his hair that makes his scalp burn so good he moans.

“Stop,” Otabek breathes, and Yuri can tell he was so, so close to coming. His response is to smirk and curve his finger inside him, against that firm bump on one of Otabek’s walls that makes him see stars every time. “Yuri,” he probably wants it to sound threatening, but with the way his cock twitches so obviously and the notorious waver of his breathy voice around the syllables of his name, it sounds more pleading than anything.

Yuri has words on the tip of his tongue, something along the lines of “you lost” or something of the like, but he swallows them for now in favor of thrusting his finger once more and, taking advantage of the way Otabek’s grasp on his hair gets weak, he dives in again and takes him in his mouth. He’s sure some of his blond hairs will stay in Otabek’s hand when he finally releases the hard grip he has on him, because going against it surely made him lose some strands, but he doesn’t care as he’s able to taste him.

Once he’s inside that mouth again, Otabek loses all his will to put up a fight and instead pushes Yuri down now that he can, guides his head as he thrusts his hips up inside that moaning mouth. It only takes Yuri to finally push his second finger inside to tip Otabek over the edge and have him spilling in his mouth with a strained moan.

He swallows as much as he can, but he’s never been good at it so it overflows anyway, drips from the corners of his mouth and down his chin.

Yuri takes his fingers out and licks whatever remnants of come are left on Otabek’s skin, letting Otabek ride his orgasm. When he finally releases his hair, Yuri grabs his hand and kisses it.

“You look so good after you come, Beka,” he rasps, and smiles at the sound.

“You sound so good after swallowing my whole dick,” Otabek retorts with zero filter between his brain and his mouth. He’s lying over the crumpled sheets, chest heaving and thighs trembling, and his voice sounds rough too but in a very different way. “C’mere,” Otabek motions for him to get closer. Yuri lets out a breathy laugh and climbs on the bed, letting Otabek take him in his arms, lying over his naked form without a trace of shame. “You should learn to drink without spilling,” Otabek says, and while one of his arms rests around Yuri’s waist, the other goes up to his face and gently cups his cheek to try and still him, running his thumb along the strikes of cooling come that Yuri didn’t bother cleaning up. On purpose, Otabek thinks. His thumb finds its way between Yuri’s lips, and green eyes fix on his as Yuri sucks it clean, then lets it go. They repeat it until Yuri’s face is no longer stained, but he keeps sucking on Otabek’s thumb for a while with half-lidded eyes.

“You really have an oral fixation, don’t you?” Otabek asks, letting him suck and lap as much as he wants while caressing his cheek. Yuri moans softly and takes his thumb as deep as it’ll go before letting it slide out of his mouth.

“You like my fixations,” he answers, sliding his hands down Otabek’s shoulders and then to his chest, where he lets them rest.

“I like _you_ ,” Otabek kisses his cheek, his jaw, and Yuri laughs and his heart swells a little. He was sucking this man’s cock literally two minutes ago and now they’re being all cheesy, damn, he’s so disgustingly in love.

“You sap,” Yuri closes his eyes and smiles gently, letting Otabek trail soft, seemingly innocent kisses as far down his neck as he can reach. Then he draws a sharp breath when Otabek bends his leg between his and slides his hand down to cup one of his ass cheeks, pushing him down. His hips instantly thrust forward, the fabric of his underwear thin enough to let him feel the firm muscle of Otabek’s thigh. He moans and tilts his head down, resting his forehead against the curve of Otabek’s neck and breathing over his collarbone. “Ah- Beka,” he calls, curving his back just slightly so his ass is up and he can comfortably spread his thighs a little more. Otabek’s fingers slide inside his back pocket and the palm of his hand rests on his ass; he starts guiding him to rub against his thigh, and Yuri can’t fight it when it feels so good. “B-Beka wait--”

“Now, why would I do that?” Otabek’s voice is returning to its deep, soothing tone. Yuri shivers and gasps, trying to grab onto something but only managing to scratch Otabek’s chest when he bends his leg further, thus leaving Yuri pressing hard against his thigh, rubbing insistently up and down.

It’s so easy to shut him up and make him moan instead that Yuri would be pissed at himself if it weren’t for the fact that he’s too aroused and it feels too good to complain. That, and Otabek’s seen him in worse situations, his mind supplies along with a list of the many times he’s been tied to the bed begging to be fucked, the lazy morning sex against the counter that had him scrambling to hold onto something while he got slowly but thoroughly fucked, the occasions they’ve experimented with toys that ended up with him coming too many times, crying from the high pleasure and unable to say a word, much less a coherent sentence.

Yuri feels his cock twitch and get harder at those memories, and he’s suddenly desperate to be turned around and fucked until he loses his voice and can’t moan anymore.

“Just... fuck me,” Yuri half-pleads, but still thrusts against that firm thigh and revels in the feeling of Otabek’s hand squeezing his ass and pushing him down forcefully, gasps loudly at how he gently rakes his nails down his back. “I want you, Beka,” he moans against his neck.

“I will,” Otabek answers, hot breath against Yuri’s ear, “but not yet.”

Oh, how the tables have turned. It’s so like Otabek to recover from an orgasm and instantly take the lead.

Yuri wants to say something, some clever comeback, something defiant that prompts Otabek to speed this torture up even if just a little, but his brain’s apparently short circuiting because his mind is blank. He’s moving on instinct, fueled by desire and nothing else. There are lips against his, suddenly, the hand that was previously scratching his back now holding his face up. He kisses back hungrily, biting and sucking, moaning when he gets the same treatment and he’s forced to pick up the pace and thrust harder.

A high pitched, shaky moan leaves his lips and is swallowed by Otabek, and Yuri’s sure he’ll be coming in his underwear soon if they don’t stop, but at this point he really wants to get off and grinding against his boyfriend is as good as any other way to do so.

But then the leading pressure of Otabek’s hand leaves him, his fingers slip out his back pocket and he’s left thrusting alone without guidance, hips stuttering. Otabek’s lips leave him too. Yuri whines and opens his eyes, slides up Otabek’s body to claim his mouth once more, but finds himself denied.

“Wha--?” he wants to ask what’s going on, but yelps as he’s turned around and pressed between his boyfriend’s naked body and the mattress. “Beka?”

“I want to take off your clothes,” he explains, leaning to get a quick kiss, “and maybe bite around a little,” he smiles, and Yuri does too because damn, Otabek’s gorgeous with that small smirk on his lips.

It always marvels Yuri how they can switch from dirty to loving sex so easily, how they can be moaning and begging and the next moment they’re laughing and kissing. Inevitably, he reaches up and tugs Otabek down so he can get another kiss.

“I could have taken them off myself,” he mutters over his lips before kissing him again, passionate but sweet. Otabek’s hands sneak under his crop top and caress his ribs.

“Where’s the fun in that, Yura?” Otabek breaks the kiss to answer, pecks him on the lips again and then starts kissing his neck. It’s loving and tender at first, but starts becoming more sensual as Otabek makes his way down. “I wanted to do this.”

“Will you fuck me when you get me naked?” Yuri sighs at the feeling of Otabek’s teeth nipping at his skin, right hand on the back of his head while the other grabs onto his bicep.

“Eventually,” Otabek replies, fingers tracing up his ribs to start rubbing a nipple.

Yuri’s breath hitches and gets caught in his throat.

“I-I was really close, you asshole.”

“I know,” he murmurs with mischief, and then he’s lifting the crop top to start sucking on his nipples and wow, okay. Yuri arches his back and moans softly. “But that wasn’t how I wanted you to come.”

In between moans, Yuri laughs breathily.

“Where’s the obedient, flustered Beka from before?” he asks, arching his back again, silently telling Otabek to stop sucking and start biting before he loses his mind.

“Gone,” is the instant reply, followed by a harsh suck, “You probably drank the obedience away from me.”

Yuri smiles and shakes his head, then presses his nape against the bed and bites his lower lip, swallowing a moan.

“Huh,” he sighs, spreading his legs out of habit when Otabek shifts in his place between his thighs. “Well, let’s see what you can d-aah. _Fuck_ ,” Yuri’s teasing gets cut by a hand cupping his erection through his underwear, making him moan as the fingers squeeze just right. Otabek palms him through the thin fabric and starts kissing and biting at his neck again, with more fervor this time, and Yuri realizes his time of being the one in control is definitely up without a chance of coming back. He thrusts his hips up and Otabek presses him back down, and Yuri keens. “ _Beka._ ”

“Your turn now, kitten,” he announces between a suck that will surely leave a hickey and a harsh bite on the sensitive skin on his neck. “I won’t stop until you come.”

“Yeah?” Yuri breathes, hands finding their way around Otabek’s back. That sounds really good. “You’re gonna jack me off like this?”

Otabek seems to find his question rather amusing, because he huffs a laugh against his neck.

“No. I’m gonna touch you for a while, then I’ll eat you out,” he clarifies, pumping Yuri through the white briefs. “And after you come I’m gonna fuck you until you’re begging to come again.”

Yuri’s knees go weak and he thinks he might just come right then and there.

He feels suddenly cold and exposed when Otabek lifts from over him, and manifests his opinion on the matter with a soft whine and fingers that try to grab at Otabek’s skin.

Otabek looks at him from above and laughs softly.

“You’re so impatient,” he slides a finger up and down the ridge of Yuri’s erection through his underwear, circling the wet spot on the tip of his cock. “You would get fucked so much quicker if you had listened to me, Yura,” he says it with such a sweet voice that it’s almost impossible to link it to the lewd words that are falling from his lips. “But you’re not the obedient kind, are you?”

Yuri doesn’t have an answer, so he’s glad Otabek clearly doesn’t expect one as he promptly busies himself with peeling off Yuri’s tight jeans, leaving him in only the crop top and his stained white boxer briefs.

“You were so talkative just moments ago,” Otabek remarks as he leans over him, kisses his lips once and gives him a suggestive look with those impossibly dark chocolate eyes of his. Then he’s trailing kisses down his jaw, his neck, his chest over the crop top, “What happened to that mouth?”

Yuri’s breath falters and a moan escapes his lips as Otabek’s hand slips his underwear down enough to take his dick out and start pumping it slowly, at the same time his teeth find a nipple through the fabric. Yuri’s skin crawls with pleasant shivers, and he holds onto Otabek’s arms and hair as he sighs heavily.

“That mouth, ah- needs a... little rest after becoming practically n-numb while sucking your dick,” Yuri manages to get out through heavy breathing and moaning, with a smile and a shaky voice. Then Otabek squeezes his dick, and the smile disappears as soon as it came.

He pushes up against Otabek’s hand and earns a press of his thumb right below the head that has the air leaving his lungs.

“You were enjoying it as much as I was,” Otabek’s lips are once more against his, and Yuri can’t think, just lean in and catch him in a kiss that’s instantly demanding, passionate, taking away the last remnants of breath he may have.

They kiss long and hard, Yuri thrusting against Otabek’s fist in desperate movements that are as hot and wet as the rub of their tongues. And he’s again so, so close… but then a shaky moan slips through his lips, and Otabek’s hand is retreating, and _fuck._ He whines. Loudly.

“Beka, please. Please,” he practically sobs, actual tears pooling at the corners of his eyes out of frustration. Being edged once was already frustrating, but twice? That was downright torture.

“I know, I know,” he’s giving sweet kisses to his jaw and somehow Yuri calms down a little, but the frustration is still there. “I’ll let you come next time.”

Well, that’s a relief, yes, but Yuri’s still hard and that’s not gonna change if Otabek doesn’t stop fooling around and touches him soon.

For a short moment, Yuri regrets making him come earlier. Otabek would be fucking him into the mattress right now if he hadn’t been such a little shit, so intent on pushing him over the edge.

“ _Now_ , Beka,” he demands, pushing his hips up to rub against anything he can reach, but Otabek kisses his cheek and moves away. “Beka!”

“Shh, you’re gonna like this,” he pulls Yuri’s boxer briefs down his thighs completely, kissing the inner side of his knee while the garment slides all the way down to his feet and ends up on the floor. “You always do.”

And then Yuri remembers what Otabek had said earlier, and anticipation balls up in his chest.

“Oh god,” he half chokes out, spreading his legs eagerly, “yes.”

Otabek chuckles, but Yuri ignores him, too horny to care about why he’s laughing.

“No,” he holds Yuri’s legs from both sides and slides his hands along the smooth skin of his thighs. Yuri doesn’t understand what that no means, but he’s about to start screaming. “Not like that, Yura. You’re gonna sit on my face this time.”

Yuri’s world tilts as he processes the words; he’d be blushing intensely if he weren’t already flushed all the way from his shoulders up. He opens his mouth to say... what? He doesn’t know. What comes out is a needy moan that embarrasses him further, so he shuts his mouth.

“Okay?” Otabek asks, though he already knows the answer because he’s smiling knowingly while offering a hand to help him up.

Yuri nods furiously and gets on his knees while Otabek lies down again, and stares at his body as he finds a comfortable position. He’s already half hard again. Yuri contemplates the possibility of rubbing his dick until it’s fully hard and then sinking on it in one go.

“Yura.”

But Otabek’s voice startles him. The look he’s giving him says he knows what Yuri was thinking. Yuri bites his lower lip, swallows hard and crawls up to him. It’s not the first time they do this, but they haven’t done it enough for Yuri to not feel weird every time he throws a leg over Otabek’s head and ends up kneeling barely above his face.

“Come on, get here,” Otabek says from his place between Yuri’s thighs, and Yuri can’t resist the urge to look to the side as he lowers himself.

Otabek’s hands come to rest on Yuri’s cheeks, kneading and caressing, sliding a thumb in between to rub against his hole while he mouths at his balls. Yuri gasps, embarrassed but already feeling good. They usually do this with him on all fours, and every now and then Otabek bends him over the bed and eats him out while looking at his face. It’s easier when he doesn’t have to rely on the strength of his legs, because every time they try rimming his knees go weak, but Otabek is really into this position and Yuri can’t say he minds. It’s just that every time, at the beginning, he feels like he might suffocate Otabek without noticing.

Otabek’s hands push him forward, tongue out and sliding against his heated skin, taking some time to suck on his perineum before finally getting to work. Yuri whimpers when Otabek’s wet, hot tongue starts lapping over his hole, feeling himself sink down on Otabek’s face a little more. Otabek’s hands, spreading his cheeks, are also holding him a little in case his knees give out.

Yuri doesn’t really know where to put his hands, so as he starts rocking softly with Otabek’s tongue he ends up grabbing his crop top with shaky fingers, hands soon making fists around the fabric.

Otabek picks up the pace, knowing Yuri’s desperate to get off and he’s the reason he’s been denied his orgasm twice already. He loves edging him, he won’t lie, but he promised no more teasing and he sticks to his promises. His tongue prods against Yuri’s hole, making his thighs shake slightly, and then starts pushing until Yuri gives in and lets him through. The sounds Otabek is making are _sinful,_ lewd; wet kisses and sucks resounding in the room along Yuri’s moans and his own hums. His fingers dig into the flesh of Yuri’s buttocks, spreading him wide for easier access so he can circle his tongue over Yuri’s rim and suck on it. Yuri’s whole body trembles in ecstasy, head hanging low and watching with barely open eyes what he can see of Otabek’s face behind his dick, his hair tickling pleasantly on his inner thighs. He brings his crop top to his mouth and bites down on the fabric, barely managing to conceal his moans as he carelessly rocks against that tongue, completely forgetting his earlier worries about Otabek’s wellbeing; he’s obviously having a great time down there. With each movement the loose top rubs against his nipples, hardened by the constant stimulation, and soon he has to give up biting because he needs his mouth free to _breathe_. Gasping, he finally reaches for his dick and starts pumping in rhythm with the rocking of his hips over that tongue that’s currently fucking him open.

Fuck, it feels good. _So good_.

“S-so good… Beka,” he moans brokenly, toes curling against the mess of sheets where he’s kneeling. By now his thighs are in a constant state of trembling, both from pleasure and exertion, and Yuri’s so, so glad Otabek’s holding him because he’d be crumbling without those hands grabbing him. “I-I’m--”

He doesn’t get to finish the warning, because then he’s being sucked hard and that’s enough to send him toppling over the edge. Yuri brings his left hand to his mouth and bites down on the tips of his fingers, moaning around them as he comes undone, pressing and rubbing his dick against his stomach in an attempt to not stain everything with his come. Otabek, below him, pushes his tongue inside and doesn’t stop until Yuri’s legs finally give out and he falls forward, barely keeping himself from falling on his face by putting his hands first, but almost immediately his arms fail him too and he’s leaning forward to rest his head against the mattress.

Yuri definitely can’t move, spent as he is, so it’s Otabek who is left in charge of moving him around to get out of the thighs prison his head is caged in. Not that he’s complaining. He pushes one of Yuri’s legs up, careful, and gets out from below him. Yuri looks wrecked, sweat pearling his skin and blonde hairs sticking to his forehead, breath labored and eyes closed. Otabek smiles fondly and leans down to kiss his thighs, his hips, going up his waist and back and shoulders, delicately caressing his skin.

“Beka,” Yuri sounds like he’s somewhere between a whimper and a moan, like he’s not sure he’s liking the attention. Otabek keeps it going, though, already knowing his boyfriend is just a little overstimulated from coming so hard.

“Good?” Otabek asks, pushing strands of hair from Yuri’s face gently, clearing the path for those beautiful green eyes that open lazily before him.

“Fuck me,” Yuri answers. Otabek blinks.

Of all the things he expected Yuri to say right now, that most definitely wasn’t one.

“... not enough?” he goes back with another question, puzzled, knowing with a good amount of certainty that it was indeed definitely enough for Yuri, if his dizzy and blissed appearance is anything to go by.

Yuri closes his eyes again and shakes his head slowly.

“More than enough,” he waits a moment and finally shifts into a more comfortable position, lying fully on his side. “But you’re hard, aren’t you?”

Otabek feels a tug in the corner of his lips, finally getting where this is going.

“I am, yeah,” he nods and slides his fingers through Yuri’s golden locks once more. “But you just came, Yura. I’m not fucking you right now, no matter how much you want the overstimulation.”

Yuri snorts softly and smiles. He hadn’t said anything about that, and yet Otabek knew.

“Come oooon,” he stretches a hand and grabs Otabek’s left, lacing their fingers as he pulls to make him lean over him, rolling onto his back at the same time. “You want it too, don’t you? That was the intention when we started all this. To fuck me.”

Otabek hovers over him, shifting his fingers in the spaces between Yuri’s so they fit better, holding himself up with his right forearm. He looks at Yuri for a moment, drunk on the sight of golden hair sprawled on the bed and satisfied emerald eyes blinking slowly at him. He’s a true beauty, and as that thought sinks in he groans softly.

“Not until you’re hard again,” Otabek’s breath falls over Yuri’s lips, warm, and Yuri takes a moment to look down at that mouth that’s so close to his before shifting back to his lover’s eyes.

“Then kiss me until I’m hard again,” he says it like he’s daring Otabek, brushing their lips together.

They’re kissing deeply not half a second later, slowly and steadily. Hands start roaming over each other’s body, touching with just fingertips in delicate, loving strokes. The sounds of their lips smacking and slightly laboured breaths soon have an effect on them, the kisses becoming more desperate, more sucking on tongues and biting on lips and ripping breathless grunts from throats roughened by moaning. When Otabek’s body presses flush against Yuri’s, dick hard against his hip, gentle touches become grabbing and squeezing, and groaning becomes moaning. Yuri’s fingers scratch softly at Otabek’s nape as he sucks on his tongue, stealing the air from Otabek’s lungs, and then pull on his hair to make room between their lips. He only needs some millimeters.

“If you’re not gonna fuck me,” Yuri mumbles hastily against Otabek’s lips, interrupting himself with another kiss, “at least finger me.”

Otabek groans into the new kiss and his cock twitches against Yuri’s hip. He’s more than okay with that, apparently.

“You sure?” he pulls apart with a wet sound of their mouths and breathes wet words over Yuri’s lips, barely keeping himself from leaning in again to kiss him until his lungs are burning.

“Beka, I asked you to fuck me,” Yuri nips at his lower lip and licks it before going on, “I can take your fingers.”

The look that he gives Otabek is everything but pure, and it seems to do the trick because then Otabek’s groaning and stretching to grab the already forgotten bottle of lube that’s laying at the end of the bed. He wastes no time in coating his fingers with a good amount of lube, rubbing them to warm it up as best as he can.

“Can I take this off now?” Yuri asks, propping himself on his elbows and taking the fabric of his crop top in between his index and thumb. “I don’t get why I’m still not fully naked.”

“Hm?” Otabek looks at him, arches an eyebrow as his lips hint a tiny amused smile, and Yuri suddenly understands. “You’re not taking that off, Yura. Since you’re so proud of how you look on it, you’re getting fucked while wearing it.”

It’s not really that sexy or arousing, to be fucked while wearing a crop top of all things, but the way Otabek’s voice drops and becomes smooth like velvet does _things_ to Yuri. So he just swallows and nods slowly.

The first finger rubs against his hole before sinking in without warning. Not that Yuri needed one, or even wanted it. He gasps and arches his back slowly, as the finger slides deeper and deeper inside him. It’s not been much since he came, and while he had thought he’d be fine by now he instantly knows he _isn’t_ , as a shaky breath leaves his mouth and all he can do is stare at the ceiling and feel himself be slowly filled up.

It would have been ten times better if Otabek had just done as he requested and fucked him, or at least fingered him, right after coming. There are days when Yuri loves the feeling of _too much_ that comes with overstimulation, loves melting under Otabek’s hands and mouth, unable to think or do anything else than grab the sheets with weak hands and let himself be fucked raw until he’s crying. But well, he has this, and if his boyfriend does a good job he’ll get a pretty similar sensation.

And he can’t remember the last time Otabek didn’t do a good job.

Yuri shivers as the finger slides in and out at a steady rhythm, lifting his head to look at Otabek before letting it fall back with closed eyes. The sight was incredible, Otabek naked and kneeling between his spread legs, concentrated look in his eyes as he watches his finger disappearing inside Yuri, his arm doing swift movements that make his muscles shift under his skin. He’s damn gorgeous.

A low moan gets out in between the gasps and heavy breaths, and Yuri cants his hips, angles them towards Otabek’s finger.

“I wanted two,” he says, planting his soles on the mattress and thrusting his hips. “Why did you start with one,” it comes off as a demand more than a question.

Otabek smiles again, that small upturn of his lips just at the right corner.

“You’re so needy today,” again, that smooth voice sends shivers down Yuri’s spine, but he thrusts against that finger once more. Then his right leg is being lifted and Otabek’s index is sliding out, and the next thing he feels is the sting of teeth nibbling the skin on the inner side of his knee and the stretch of two fingers sinking on him.

He gasps and moans again.

It’s good, the slight burn that comes with the fingers sliding in, deep, deep, deep until Yuri can feel Otabek’s knuckles against his ass. He’s still feeling loose from being rimmed, and he’s obviously still sensitive enough to already start scratching that feeling of _I want to come already, please stop_ that characterizes overstimulation. The fingers start thrusting, setting a merciless rhythm from the start, and Yuri’s lost. At the back of his mind he registers the harsh sucks and bites on his leg, now up his inner thigh where he’ll probably have love bites to display tomorrow when he takes off his clothes.

A sharp, shaky intake of breath surprises even him as Otabek’s fingers curve inside him, his palm coming to rest against his balls and rubbing up and down with every slide of his fingers. Then he’s being stretched wide by the scissoring motion of those fingers and his toes curl, a broken moan spilling from his dry lips.

Otabek’s mouth is on his belly now, sucking marks that will look very accusing tomorrow when he tries on his new skating costume, and suddenly a third finger is pushed in and Yuri swears he’s about to lose his mind. He grabs the sheets with his left hand while the right goes straight to Otabek’s hair and buries itself there, pulling a little as he gasps and curls his toes.

“D-damn it, Beka,” Yuri curses, barely above a whisper. He had intended his voice to be louder, firmer, but he’s already used to it failing him when he has something that deep up his ass so he’s not exactly surprised. Otabek sucks harder just under his belly button, bites the sensitive flesh there while curving his fingers, and Yuri’s breath leaves him completely. “Beka,” again, he intended it to sound like a harsh complain, but it comes out a barely audible whine.

Otabek is smiling against his skin, the fucker.

“Feels good?” he asks, sliding his lips down to his hips, where he starts sucking again. Yuri feels a sudden jolt of pleasure run down his back and spread through all his body, and he’s suddenly so, so sure he’ll be coming again soon if they don’t stop now.

Still, he can’t bring himself to stop thrusting against those fingers stretching him mercilessly.

“Please,” Yuri straight up moans that word, arching into Otabek’s mouth. He’s hard again, enough to feel his dick bouncing slightly with every movement of his hips, and at this point he’s been waiting too long to be fucked and, as filthy as it sounds, he needs Otabek’s dick _now_. He’s not sure he’ll be able to keep going after a second orgasm and he won’t be satisfied until he’s fucked for good.

He’s contemplating the idea of somehow turning them around and sinking on his boyfriend’s dick when he hears Otabek’s low chuckle and then his fingers are sliding out. Yuri feels too empty now that he’s been loosened up this much, and complains with a soft noise that promptly dies when Otabek’s lips press against his. Yuri’s desperate, but Otabek’s kissing him slow and steady, and he calms down enough to stop the trembling that has taken over his whole body.

“Beka,” he mutters against his lips when the hot claws of an impending orgasm have retreated from his lower belly and he’s remembered how to breathe properly. They keep kissing and Otabek hums in acknowledgment against his lips, but Yuri takes a little more time to kiss him and taste his tongue and teeth before going on. “I really want you.”

It’s a simple statement, already obvious by the way his erection is rubbing against Otabek’s, but the meaning beyond it is clear as day. Otabek thrusts up against him and bites his lower lip.

“I really want you, too,” and then he’s lifting himself from over Yuri and grabbing a condom from the nightstand drawer and ripping off the package. Yuri would love to slide it over his dick but he’s stuck there, legs spread to the sides of Otabek’s hips, barely holding himself up on his forearms and watching Otabek’s thick dick being finally covered by that thin layer of latex. He has the sudden urge to be fucked without anything between them, to be filled up when Otabek comes deep inside him, but he doesn’t voice it.

Otabek slicks himself up, eyes set on Yuri’s, then wipes the excess of lube on the sheets and takes Yuri by the hips, sliding his hands down his thighs as he edges him closer, close enough that he’s rubbing against his hole, and Yuri once again whimpers, drowning in want and arousal. Anticipation is killing him.

He’s about to complain when Otabek lifts one of his thighs, lines himself up and thrusts in. Yuri gasps.

Otabek slides in slowly but steadily, filling Yuri up little by little and making him feel like he’s burning, the stretch of his cock way better than that of three fingers. He wants to be roughed up so desperately, but he’s also loving every second of this slow fuck.

A broken moan leaves Otabek’s lips when his hips finally come in contact with Yuri’s ass, and Yuri whines and sighs at the same time, lost in pleasure and relief. Otabek doesn’t wait, starts sliding out and in again without waiting for any permission; Yuri’s so lose, so well stretched, taking him so fully and so good he can’t bring himself to wait, to ask for confirmation to something he already knows. Yuri’s face reassures he made the right choice, as the blond is soon gasping and moaning and closing his eyes to press the back of his head against the pillow.

Otabek grabs Yuri harder from below his bent knee, tightens his grip on his hip and guides him further up his lap, and Yuri responds by pushing back against his dick. They fall in rhythm easily, Otabek moaning and gripping hard at Yuri’s hip to stabilize him so he can thrust deeper and deeper into him, Yuri grasping at the sheets and arching his back as a stream of moans flows out of his parted lips. He moans Otabek’s name and is rewarded with a rough thrust that makes fireworks go off behind his eyelids.

“You’re so beautiful,” Otabek mutters, and then he’s hooking both of Yuri’s legs on his arms, right on the inner side of his elbows, and bending him with his legs spread so wide he can easily fuck into him deep and hard and _good._ Yuri turns his face to press his cheek against the cold bit of pillow at his left, feeling his cheeks heat up as his body is set on fire. Otabek’s hands are at his sides, supporting his weight as he thrusts his hips against Yuri’s ass, so Yuri releases the sheets and reaches down to grab his ass and spread his cheeks, digging his nails on his skin. Otabek growls and that sound edges Yuri a little closer to his orgasm. “Yura, _fuck_.”

“Harder,” Yuri wants to say a lot of things, but that’s the most urgent thought on his mind and therefore the first thing he spouts when he can get enough breath to do so. First and only, because he’s being immediately fucked so hard he can hear the bed creaking loudly beneath them.

Sweat and harsh movements cause Yuri’s hands to slip from his ass, and he ends up scrambling around to hold onto something, anything to steady himself just a little, both to help Otabek thrust easier into him and because he’s losing himself so much in the pleasure he needs something to ground him a little. One hand finds the back of Otabek’s thigh and grabs onto it to hold him as close as he can, while the other one shoots up and pulls him down by the back of his head, foreheads pressing together and wet, hot breaths mingling against lips desperate to kiss.

Yuri means to warn, but a well-angled thrust has him moaning breathless and broken, like it’s the first time he’s been fucked this good and he can’t keep up with it. Then Otabek is huffing against his ear and the harsh breathes only arouse him even more.

“I love you,” Otabek groans, and chokes on the last syllable. He’s either close himself or knows Yuri’s about to come, or probably both, as he bends Yuri further over himself and fucks him fast and rough.

Not much more is needed for Yuri to tip over the edge and come, gasping for air. He’s vaguely aware of his loud moans and the pearly white strings falling over his stomach and staining his crop top, but how can he care when he’s feeling so damn incredible, each and every nerve on fire as his muscles spasm, as he trembles with the force of his orgasm.

Otabek fucks him through it as his own climax hits him and he comes too, hips stuttering a little but going on as much as he can, until he stops with one last weak thrust.

They’re both spent, breathing heavily and pressed against each other, muscles burning in the best way possible. Otabek slumps against him and Yuri huffs but lets him get back some of his energy before demanding him to get the fuck up. He doesn’t have the energy to say anything yet, either way.

The fingers on Otabek’s nape slide against the short hairs of his undercut in a mindless, weak caress. Yuri can feel Otabek’s chest rising and falling as he takes shallow breaths that don’t take long before becoming deeper, as his breathing starts regularizing again. Yuri isn’t having it that easy, though, because he’s all folded over himself and it’s pretty hard to breathe properly with your knees pressed against your shoulders.

“Beka,” he calls, still trying to catch his breath. “I know I’m flexible but this is abusing.”

Otabek takes a second, and then he’s chuckling low and deep, and Yuri can feel it against his thighs and he’s torn between insulting him and laughing too. He settles for smiling and calling him an asshole. A moment later Otabek’s pressing a soft, barely-there kiss on his jaw before pulling out and rolling to the side.

Yuri takes a deep, good breath as his legs are placed back on the bed.

“Okay, holy shit,” Yuri mumbles. It comes out sloppy, his mouth not feeling entirely his. He’s suddenly exhausted but he’s feeling so damn _good_.

Otabek’s disposing of the condom, and when Yuri turns to him he notices he’s looking equally as wrecked but satisfied, skin covered in sweat and hair tousled, some bites and marks on his skin and a couple angry red scratches on his chest from when Yuri was grinding against his thigh. He smiles. Otabek returns the gesture. And when Yuri stretches his hand towards him, Otabek takes it, kisses his knuckles and lies back in bed with him.

Yuri chuckles tiredly and they just stare at each other for a moment. Then he sighs.

“So,” he starts, with that same dumb grin he has every time he’s in the afterglow of an especially good fuck. “Can I take this shit off already?”

It’s a good thing Otabek looks equally dopey, so Yuri doesn’t feel like he needs to hide his face.

Then again, they’re also way past that.

“You can now, yeah,” Yuri can tell Otabek’s amused. He’s about to sit up to strip, but Otabek beats him to it, grabbing the hem of the crop top and pulling it up.

Yuri helps by lifting himself enough for the garment to slip over his frame, and then he falls back on the mattress with a sigh, feeling way more comfortable now.

There’s some rubbing against his belly that gets Yuri to look up, and his eyes widen in incredulity.

“You asshole!” he kicks Otabek with the back of his foot, soft enough to not hurt him but hard enough to produce a smacking sound. “Don’t use my clothes to wipe come!”

Otabek just looks at him in the eye while he proceeds to clean himself and then toss the crumpled crop top to the floor. Yuri laughs.

“It’s white, you fucker. It’s gonna get stained,” Yuri means to growl, but his smile won’t let him. He accepts Otabek in his arms when he lies back down and tangles their legs together.

“I’ll throw it in the washer in a while,” Otabek snuggles against him, kissing his neck lovingly.

“Yeah, sure,” Yuri rolls his eyes and pushes a strand of his hair away from his face before wrapping his arms around his boyfriend again. Otabek’s shoulders shake and Yuri smiles against Otabek’s black hair, knowing he’s laughing silently. They spend a while just like that, pressed against each other, Otabek’s fingers going up and down Yuri’s spine. Then Yuri nuzzles his hair and speaks. “Hey, Beka?” he calls for him softly, and gets a hum in response. “I love you too.”

There’s a pause, then a soft, long kiss to the base of his neck. Yuri returns the kiss to the top of his boyfriend’s head.

They let silence take over, not having anything else to say, and if it weren’t for the slow caresses still going up and down his back Yuri would think Otabek’s fallen asleep.

Then there’s a hand sliding all the way down to his ass and squeezing it playfully. Yuri yelps, Otabek laughs softly again.

“So,” he mouths, hand now resting innocently on his hip, “‘Tigers do it better’, huh?”

Yuri chuckles, cupping Otabek’s face from below his jaw to lift it and look at his eyes.

“Don’t you think so?” he grins, curving an eyebrow.

Otabek mimics his grin and leans in for a quick kiss, but stops just before their lips meet.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, hovering over his mouth.

Yuri presses him down and kisses him.

He'll have to try the booty shorts too.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been years since I last wrote smut so I wanted it to be good. Hope it was *sweats*
> 
> I'll be posting the drawing of Yuri wearing the crop top on my tumblr. Feel free to come, look around, maybe talk to me at [kumikirin](http://kumikirin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! You can even trick me into writing something for you the way Eve did, if you scream at me about it enough (probably the best thing you could do for me bc that will push me to write).


End file.
